


Time has Come to Raise the Roof

by Annie D (scaramouche)



Series: Biology and Feelings and Stuff [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alpha Dean, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Barebacking, Bottom Castiel, Castiel POV, Established Relationship, Knotting, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Multiple Orgasms, Omega Castiel, Porn with Feelings, Rimming, Schmoop, Self-Lubrication, Top Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-08
Updated: 2018-01-08
Packaged: 2019-03-01 23:49:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13305927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scaramouche/pseuds/Annie%20D
Summary: Castiel and Dean's cycles finally sync up.





	Time has Come to Raise the Roof

The bathroom is full of steam when Castiel steps out of his shower. He feels fresh and rejuvenated, his muscles warmed and relaxed, his limbs loose and limber. Castiel wipes a hand across the surface of the fogged-up mirror, revealing his reflection.

Castiel is roughly aware that some people (most importantly, Dean) find him attractive. He rarely _feels_ attractive, though, for the concept of attractiveness is so oblique and ill-defined. His face is his face, his body is his body; he respects and cares for them, but finds it difficult to understand the hunger in how Dean talks about him, whether to Castiel himself or to others.

Right now, though? Right now when Castiel gazes at his slightly-blurry reflection, he feels powerful. Castiel is vicious and stunning, and understands well what Dean wants from him. His body is well-maintained, his skin glistening and damp. He is a small god in a steam-filled bathroom, smiling when he hears the faint scratching on the other side of the door.

Curious, Castiel touches himself. He runs his fingers along his stomach, brushes the hair of his low trail, then upwards to stroke his nipples. He is not yet on fire but he can feel the start of it, gathering patiently in expectation of a sure thing.

On the other side of the door, Dean whimpers.

Eyes drifting shut, Castiel braces his palms on the sink and lets his weight shift forward. His mind is starting to get hazy, sinking into that familiar fog so allow the body to focus on the search for satisfaction. Castiel vaguely remembers thinking, as a child, how useless and stupid the whole thing sounded. To be fair, Castiel had thought the same through most of his life afterward.

Heats are not new to Castiel. Heats spent with Dean are not new either. But this – _this_ – is different.

Dean growls, his voice muffled by the door. It’s not an angry growl, but it’s unhappy, as though Dean knows that Castiel is presenting himself, legs parted and head tossed back. Castiel doesn’t mean to be cruel but he wants to be ready. He wants to do this properly.

A last breath, and then Castiel finally turns, takes the few steps to the door, and opens it.

There’s Dean leaning against the door frame, as naked as Castiel, and his mouth falling open as he breathes Castiel in. That’s as much as Castiel sees, anyway, because he quickly slips under Dean’s arm into the living area beyond, ignoring Dean’s low whine behind him.

This apartment has been theirs for over a year now. It’d been set up in a particular way when they’d first moved in together – an omega and an alpha living together but not living _together_ – with boundaries and common areas clearly delineated. Then when their relationship changed, so too did the apartment.

But even with their relationship changed, and Castiel having conquered half of what used to be Dean’s room, their apartment has never been like this.

All the large furniture – few pieces as there are – have been pushed to the walls. Dean’s laptop is set on the kitchen island, and is playing some easy listening Dean would otherwise claim there’s no way in hell he has on his playlist. All the pillows and comforters in the apartment are piled in a nest in the center of the living area, with their freshly-laundered cycle sheets laid on top of them. Dean has been very busy while Castiel took his shower.

Castiel pads over the nest and steps on the closest corner of the sheet. He rotates his heels against the cotton, partly to feel the texture and partly to set his scent in – though scent will not be a problem for a long.

“Hey,” Dean says quietly. He brushes his fingers against Castiel’s back, and inhales sharply when Castiel pulls away.

Castiel clicks his tongue, and glances back at Dean long enough so that Dean can see him smile. Dean relaxes and grins back, confident again of his welcome, though he now hangs back while Castiel moves further into the nest.

There’s no rush, not yet. The pull in Castiel’s body is still gentle and unhurried. It’s easy enough for Castiel to take his time rubbing his freshly-scrubbed soles on the sheets and find a nice spot to settle. They’ve used these sheets before, of course – during Dean’s ruts and Castiel’s heats – but those times it’s always been spread over their bed. _Those_ times it had been fine to use the bed, because there was always someone to hold the fort, as it were.

Though facing away from him, Castiel can smell Dean, and his expectation and arousal. No doubt Dean’s studying him the way that Castiel is studying Dean’s nest, though perhaps Dean’s view of Castiel’s bare ass and legs is more scintillating. Having Dean’s attention is always flattering, but this time there’s that a persistent edge to that attention, like the hum of a finger rubbing the rim of a wineglass. Castiel feels his body respond to it, echo it, and send its own arousal back.

Castiel finally settles in a nice valley of the cushions, and sighs at the feel of cotton on his legs and back. He tilts his head, wondering if this is what kings and emperors felt like when observing their dominions. For here is Castiel’s dominion: a nest made by Dean, in their shared and protected home, while Dean himself stands watch.

Dean’s panting softly, but patience keeps his dark eyes calm. Castiel lets his own gaze move downward appreciatively, across Dean’s heavy chest and lower still, to where Dean’s cock hangs heavy.

“Is that for me?” Castiel asks.

Any other time Dean would likely smirk and say something dorky and charming, but not this time. This time Dean bares his teeth in display, and Castiel jerks in surprise, aware of the wetness between his legs.

They’ve never been in sync before. Castiel’s had Dean during his ruts, and Dean’s had Castiel during his heats, but they’ve always been just that far apart, admittedly thanks to Castiel’s irregular cycles. But Castiel hadn’t minded, and Dean said _he_ hadn’t minded, and Castiel honestly believes that it would’ve been fine if they’d never locked in, because _this_ was never point of them.

Yet here they are, and this is why Castiel took his time getting ready. It’s already obvious that this heat will be different, that the journey from ache to frustration to relief will not be so straightforward.

Castiel gives in to it, sinking easily into the desire that’s fogging his brain and spreading through his limbs. He smells Dean’s hunger and offer his own, theirs now a concert of desire and biology and _agreement_ that makes Castiel shiver. He hooks his hands under his knees, opening his legs and thus showing Dean the space he’s meant to be.

Dean takes it.

A rush of air and Dean’s on top of Castiel, pressing him into the cushions and kissing him hot and deep. This is not at all like Dean’s usual kisses – whether the light ones shared casually through the day, or the hot make-outs when both of them can spare their full attention. This is Dean working himself up towards desperation and enjoying it. Castiel would sigh if Dean’s mouth weren’t plastered against his, Dean’s tongue curling deep.

How different this is. Castiel’s in heat but a part of him’s already satisfied, his body lethargic the way it usually only ever becomes after at least one orgasm. He claws at Dean’s back lazily, and lets Dean rub against him, a mutual marking of scents that has Castiel close to purring in satisfaction.

At the brush of Dean’s shaft against Castiel’s hole, Castiel gasps and more slick rushes forth. He’s ready, all ready, but then Dean fumbles, hips jerking and cockhead bumping uselessly at various points between Castiel’s thighs. It’s a clumsy, frantic search for Castiel’s opening, and accomplishes nothing but leaving Dean hissing with frustration.

Castiel can’t help it – he laughs. He laughs until he wheezes, and when Dean whimpers in dismay, Castiel hugs him in apology.

“I’m sorry.” Castiel draws back to look Dean in the eye, and strokes his hands down the sides of Dean’s face. “I understand that you’re, um… you’re really into this.”

“You think?” Dean says, and Castiel wonders if red-eyed alphas in their ruts are allowed to pout like that. “Fuck, Cas, you smell so good and it’s… it’s hard to think.”

“So your aim’s a little off?” Castiel says kindly.

Dean barks a laugh, which turns into a pleased hum when Castiel noses Dean’s ear, scenting him. “Sure, laugh at me, like you’re not leaking all over the place.”

“I don’t deny it.” Castiel slides his hands down Dean’s sides and pulls him closer. “I’m wet and open for you, Dean.”

“ _Hell_ ,” Dean says with a shudder.

At Castiel’s urging he shifts his hips again, slower this time. His cock slides up, following the crevice of Castiel’s buttcheeks, then pausing roughly over Castiel’s opening. Castiel closes his eyes, and feels Dean reach down, giving up his trust on instinct for carefully maneuvering his dick where it needs to go.

“Oh,” Castiel says quietly.

A nudge, a push, and then Dean’s sliding inside, the journey made easier by Castiel’s heat-slick channel. Castiel sometimes forgets the sheer _relief_ of this moment, of how every inch inward feels like a very intense itch being scratched by a very precise instrument. Whereby the instrument is a dick. Dean’s dick.

“I’m in,” Dean says. “You can stop laughing.”

“Not laughing at you,” Castiel promises. “Just feels good.”

“Nah, not _yet_ ,” Dean says, a smile in his voice. Sure enough, that’s a promise, because Dean starts fucking Castiel in earnest.

To be fair, they’ve had quite a bit of practice with this. Dean’s good at it, setting a steady rhythm that draws out the friction of Dean’s shaft against the sensitive skin of Castiel’s opening. It’s good, gratifying, powerful, and in a handful of thrusts Castiel is automatically tightening his legs around Dean’s torso.

“Your back okay?” Dean asks.

“Deeper,” Castiel says. “Just – just deeper. Please.”

The world narrows down. There is only Castiel and Dean in their little nest, Castiel clutching Dean to him and Dean working Castiel’s ass with as much focus as he can muster. The nest is wonderful but it’s pretty much a quick rut on the floor, functional and delicious. Castiel comes with bitten-off gasp, head tossed back while Dean growls his approval against Castiel’s throat.

A few breaths later and they’re tied off, Dean’s knot solid and secure inside Castiel. Once Dean’s done shaking, he rolls them onto their sides, allowing Castiel to unbend his body a little but keeping his ass set comfortably on Dean’s dick. It’s a little cheeky of him, but Castiel can’t help circling his hips to feel the lock of their bodies.

“Whoa!” Dean yelps. He scowls. “Dude.”

“Sorry.”

“No, you’re not.”

“I am. A little.” Castiel squeezes carefully around the knot, though this time Dean’s ready for it and merely sighs. “I like how it feels. How’s your head?”

“Clearer.” Dean pulls the nearest cushion under his head, while Castiel does the same. “How was it? I lost myself somewhere in there again, so I forgot to, uh…”

“I’m in heat, Dean.” Castiel smiles when Dean automatically bares his teeth. “You don’t have to worry about those extra things. It was good.”

Dean grins. “Would be better if you do more than just lie there.”

“I’m saving my strength.”

“For what? Extreme knot-massaging?”

“I’m not the one who gets always cranky before the first orgasm.” Castiel rolls his eyes when Dean gasps indignantly. “Be quiet, it’s true. I let you get that out of your system first so you don’t complain so much when I ride you.”

“I don’t… Yeah, okay, you might have a point,” Dean says. “You comfy?”

Castiel shifts a little, testing the pressure on his lower back. “Yes, I can’t complain. How about you?”

“Did not warm up,” Dean says promptly. “Might regret it later in my knees.”

“When were you going to tell me this?”

“Like you just said, I’m a rutting crankypants before I get off. Can’t think straight, just wanna go go go!” Dean’s smile softens, and strokes a hand gently up Castiel’s thigh. “Man, you’re just lyin’ there like butter won’t melt in your mouth, but I can smell you. You’re just warming up.”

Castiel’s face flushes warm, before he remembers that he doesn’t need to be embarrassed about this. Dean scratched the itch well but it’s still there, waiting patiently and gathering strength. It may seem a little strange to feel these tingles of yearning when there’s _already_ a dick inside him, but the body wants what it wants.

“Touch my nipples, Dean,” Castiel says. “They’re swollen.”

Dean darts his tongue out, wetting his lips. “Sure.”

+

Once Dean’s knot goes down, they fuck again, with Castiel fulfilling his promise to ride Dean slow and easy as is befitting the needs of his heat. Dean whines and curses and bucks up, but he lets Castiel takes his pleasure to his own tempo. This means Castiel bouncing on Dean’s lap and working Dean’s solid cock at every angle Castiel’s hole needs – back and forth, in small circles, side and down, all of them.

Before Dean, Castiel used to think that he became another person during his heats. His body changed and became demanding, his mind would become distracted by thoughts he’d otherwise rarely think about. But being with Dean was like a missing piece slotting into place, making sense of not only them, but of Castiel himself.

Castiel loves being with Dean. Not just the sex, but everything else of living together, studying together, doing various precious and inexplicable social bonding things – all of it. Sex is just another thing on top of that, as is heightened sex in the cyclic commands of their bodies. It’s not to be endured, but to be shared.

Hence, there is no shame in Castiel’s coming wildly on top of Dean, crying out his pleasure and shoving down hard to trigger Dean’s knot. Dean follows him quickly, and afterward stares up at Castiel in pleased, wide-eyed shock.

The third time they go at it, it’s in the second wind of Dean’s rut. Dean loses himself again to the alpha fog, and grabs at Castiel, grunting his excitement when Castiel pushes him away, sending the two of them rolling around in the cushions. In end Dean presses Castiel on his stomach on the floor and, with his aim much improved, shoves into Castiel with a pleased snarl.

Castiel’s orgasm is a little sharper this time, his channel already sensitive and his inner thighs starting to burn from keeping his legs open. His head clears quicker, too, and he’s thus able to enjoy Dean’s fucking him without distraction. Castiel sighs, body loose and contented as the slam of Dean’s hips rattles all the way up to Castiel’s teeth.

The drag of Dean’s parted lips on the back of Castiel’s neck is warning for what comes next. Castiel bows his head forward, ready for the careful – always careful, even in the throes of a rut – clamp of Dean’s teeth at the meat between Castiel’s neck and shoulder.

This is the animalistic satisfaction of it, with Dean’s raw taking of Castiel to his pleasure. Castiel’s own body thrums through it, his heat satisfied and then some by Dean’s performance. Dean’s desperation doesn’t even let up when he hits his orgasm – an intense one, judging from the wet spillover Castiel can feel running down his legs – and he keeps jerking up into Castiel even as his knot swells again, settling back in its home inside Castiel’s body.

Once Dean’s breathing is no longer as though he’s been running a marathon, Castiel says, “Good job.”

“Fuck,” Dean says.

Dean zones out for a bit, and they take another breather, pausing for drinks and snacks. Castiel crawls on top one of their larger cushions to give his knees a rest, and after a while is on the cusp of falling asleep when he feels Dean touch his arm.

“Not yet,” Castiel says. “I’m a little sore.”

“I’m not going in, I’m just gonna, um… check.”

Castiel’s breath catches. “Yes, thank you.”

Dean’s fingers are gentle where they press at the flesh of Castiel’s ass, nudging the cheeks apart and prodding at his perineum. Castiel realizes he’s even more sensitive that he thought, little flickers of pleasure-pain making him shiver as Dean runs his fingertips up from the base of Castiel’s cock to his opening. Dean settles his hands there, thumbs on either side of Castiel’s hole, and ever-so-carefully tugs.

“Man, you’re leaking,” Dean says. “Not _leaking_ -leaking, I mean you’re leaking… me.”

“You _have_ come inside me three times,” Castiel reminds him.

Usually when Dean’s in a rut, he only needs to come inside Castiel once or twice. His body rarely needs more, and even if it does, Castiel’s mouth, hands, or their tasteful collection of toys are enough for the task. The same goes in other direction when Castiel’s in his heat. That said, it makes sense that they’d need more when they’re in this together – Castiel definitely intends to have Dean inside him one more time before the day is out.

“Here we go,” Dean says, and then there’s a touch of his tongue on Castiel’s rim.

Castiel has no idea if it’s true, if alpha saliva really does help soothe the tender skin or if it’s a psychological thing, but does it make a difference if the net result is the same? Castiel’s whole body just _melts_ , pleasure and relief cascading through him as Dean laps at his hole. Maybe it’s a thing where pleasure overrides the soreness, but Castiel feels there must be more to it than that – more stimulation should make things worse, not better.

And this is definitely better.

Another swipe of Dean’s tongue and Castiel’s reservations are gone. He tilts his hips up a bit, giving Dean better access, which he immediately takes advantage of. Dean’s licking grows bolder, firmer, and then he’s kissing Castiel wetly on his hole, around it, and down near his balls.

“Yes,” Castiel hisses. “In. _In_.”

“Cas.” Dean’s voice is warm with affection. “Really?”

“Empty.”

“Actually, you’re really not.” Castiel has no idea how he can tell that Dean’s rolling his eyes, but there it is.

Castiel gasps at the press of a fingertip at his hole, and then Dean’s finger is sliding in. Even from this end Castiel can tell how slick he is inside. At a careful press of Dean’s knuckle against the opening, more of Dean’s come leaks back out.

“Oh wow,” Castiel breathes. “Touch me, Dean. Touch me – touch me inside.”

Dean laughs, but he obliges and starts fingering Castiel properly. One finger at first, just to test the sensitivity and soreness of Castiel’s inner walls, and when that has Castiel humming with pleasure, two fingers. Dean touches Castiel elsewhere as well, kissing his legs and lower back, and sweeping his free hand over Castiel’s back and arms. Castiel appreciates the extra effort but at the same time it’s kinda distracting, because he really wants to enjoy Dean’s fingers – three now – pumping in and out of a well-fucked hole.

It’s not a knot inside him, but Castiel comes anyway. He sobs through it, overstimulated and loving every second of it.

“Keep going,” Castiel says. “I want – I still want—”

“Yeah,” Dean says breathlessly. “I’m on it.”

Castiel’s limbs feel useless but they somehow manage to get in a roughly-upright position, Dean sitting with his legs under him, and Castiel on his lap, partially supported by stacked-up cushions behind him.

They groan in unison when Dean slides on home, gravity helping them out so Castiel is fully seated on Dean’s cock. Castiel doesn’t even need to make slick anymore, not with Dean having so fully lubed him up, but the heat obliges anyway, sending another rush forth out of Castiel and onto Dean’s shaft.

“Goddamn,” Dean says.

There’s no rush this time. They may want this, but they’re also tired, and it’s easier to grind slowly and enjoy the feel of each other. Castiel certainly has no complaints about having Dean’s cock inside him for as long as possible.

They touch each other – Dean palming Castiel’s hips and thighs, and Castiel running his fingers over Dean’s shoulders and chest. Castiel may be heat-horny but he also feels a little like a beached whale with how tired and sweaty he is, but Dean just looks glorious. Dean is broad and strong and handsome, his hair dark with sweat but his eyes bright with excitement.

Affection swells in Castiel’s chest. This could’ve been difficult – heats have always been difficult for him, in general – but this has been good, and Dean has been wonderful.

But as soon as that thought hits, Castiel realizes that his ass is starting to ache again. Not just that, but he can feel a familiar coolness returning to his limbs, and the intensity of Dean’s scent is easing up. Oh, the arousal is still there, and Castiel still wants to come, but his heat is tapering off. And then Castiel will go back to being as he normally is.

“Hey.” Dean strokes his knuckles across Castiel’s cheek. “What’s up?”

“It’s going away.” Castiel squeezes around Dean’s erection, and although that’s still good, it’s not as much of a butterfly-inducing thrill of earlier. “It’s fading.”

“Cas. _Cas_.”

Castiel looks at Dean, who is doing that sweet, lopsided smile of his. “What?”

“This—” Dean gestures down at where their bodies are joined, “—is not why I love you. You know that, right?”

Castiel closes his eyes briefly, sheepish that they’re a little damp. “I know.”

“Do you?”

“I know!” Castiel smacks Dean’s chest a little, and is startled when Dean catches his wrists, lifting them up to kiss each one in turn. “I’m sorry, it’s literally hormones.”

“I know that, too,” Dean says, still smiling, “but I’m still gonna tell you that I’m not going away, even if this never happens again. I mean, geez, Cas, all my clothes smell like you, you’ve met my parents, and you’re the only person I’ve ever trusted to drive my Baby. How am I ever gonna top being with _you_?”

Castiel swallows around his suddenly too-thick throat. “With a great deal of difficulty, I’d imagine.”

Dean rubs a thumb at the corner of Castiel’s smiling mouth. “There we go.”

The last orgasm arrives slowly, between languid kisses and more soft touches, but even then it seems too quick for Castiel’s liking. So it is that Castiel comes with Dean’s fingers on his nipples and Dean’s dick as deep inside as it’ll go. Pleasure rolls over him in waves, his body almost too sensitive to bear it all, but he manages it – he _wants_ it.

Dean follows soon after, sucking on two of Castiel’s fingers as he does. His knot finds its bearing, but this time Castiel winces, the feel of it too large instead of just right. Still, Castiel relishes the act of it, and carefully settles down on Dean’s lap.

“Thank you, Dean.” Castiel combs his fingers through Dean’s hair, and smiles when Dean hums contentedly. “Not just for this, but for all of you.”

“I got a good deal,” Dean replies.

Right now they’ll cuddle in this perfect, warm little nest that smells like them (like _home_ ).

Later, when the fevers are both gone and the afterglow a lovely memory, the sheets will have turned into a stinky, fluid-streaked mess that needs cleaning immediately. But that will be perfect, too.


End file.
